


Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

by Spylace



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse, DCU Animated
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fake Science, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Possessive Behavior, Prostitution, Reproductive Rights, Sexual Coercion, Weird Biology, dick is appalled, jason is a very special snowflake who happens to be an omega, tim no like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:05:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Spylace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you thought about it?”</p><p>No, why would he? But now that he thought about it, Jason with a rounded belly, petting the precious curve and humming to it, he couldn’t get the image out of his head.</p><p>In hindsight, he wasn’t angry that Tim had suggested it, only that it was aimed at Jason whom he had no rights to. Jason was his. If anyone was going to think of him like that, it should be him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not how you use a legal term btw

Dick didn’t remember how the conversation started.

Scratch that, he knew exactly how. Red Robin was in Gotham for an assist. They were both tired, cranky. They were both frustrated.

And on top of that, Jason was on the loose again, torching every suspicious building from Gotham to Bludhaven like some vigilante-fumigator. Their usual informants, if they knew anything, were keeping mum, too afraid of incurring Red Hood’s wrath. Privately, Dick agreed and resisted the urge to smother himself under the cowl.

“Have you thought about it?”

No, why would he? But now that he thought about it, Jason with a rounded belly, petting the precious curve and humming to it, he couldn’t get the image out of his head.

In hindsight, he wasn’t angry that Tim had suggested it, only that it was aimed at Jason whom he had no rights to. Jason was his. If anyone was going to think of him like _that_ , it should be him.

The idea grew like one of Ivy’s plants, debilitating, all-encompassing even as he threw himself into the Gotham skyline. It stole his every waking breath and thought. It made him hot. The rut was coming soon—alphas first then betas. It was supposedly a survival mechanism predating civilization when people were mostly scattered bands of hunter-gatherers, living by the seasons. Alphas’ children had the highest rate of survival, then betas.

Omegas weren’t supposed to exist.

Omegas were all males. Long ago, wise men that weren’t really that wise after all hypothesized it was an inherent trait passed on by the weaker, female sex. Now they knew better. It was the males who carried the sex-linked omega gene but it all depended on if it became active or remained in active kind of like the X-men and their x-gene.

No one was born with their nature, they grew into them. And Jason had died young, at an age when his body would have spun between alpha and beta. He had been in a coma before wandering the streets. If it hadn’t been for Talia, he would have...

It wouldn’t have mattered how well he was trained. Unlike alphas and betas who reached their fertile peak during late spring or early fall, omegas were accommodating, went into heat whenever the nearest person twitched wrong or something. Jason was an omega. It was wrong for him to be alone.

 

Dick first became aware of the problem when a boat exploded with a brief but intense conflagration that lit up the horizon. It quickly spread down the docks, eating up cargo and everything else in its way. Despite the firefighters’ valiant efforts, a second explosion occurred a few minutes later and Dick fell back with a wince.

A familiar figure darted past in in the dark and the chase was on. It was harder than it should have been because they knew each other’s moves, Robin’s moves, well and tended to overguess, leaving themselves wide open for something else that was blocked or failed to make contact entirely.

But Jason Todd, post-Lazarus Pit, was a different creature from the one who’d met his end at the Joker’s hands. Jason was bigger now, no longer the tiny street urchin with fine bones and the inability to put on weight. He hit harder, rolled with the punches like they were water off a duck’s back.

The chase was intoxicating, liberating, fanning his fears to unfound heights.

Jason smelled of an omega knotted and bred, the musky tang of come and something far sweeter on his skin past the fuel and fire.

Dick finally tackled him to a stop above the intersection surrounding the R.H. Kane building. “What have you done?” He demanded furiously, Jason cackling the entire way. The younger man shoved him off, his legs tense beneath him as though he was about to jump when Dick had him cornered with several, well-placed baterangs.

“Jason, what did you _do_?”

Jason’s expression was impermeable through the stupid helmet he wore but his overall smugness was not. He whistled at the large tear across his upper thigh where it was starting to bleed a little, blood dyeing the distressed material in shy licks that had him taking a step back, getting a good lungful of pepper and honey smog.

His voice broke.

“You’re the omega.”

Jason rocked back on his heels, hands clasped around his back.

“Bingo”

“What happened?”

The younger man shrugged. “The usual, a prostitution ring specializing in omegas. How could I resist?”

“And so you went undercover? Without backup? They believed you?!” Dick was aware that he was becoming hysterical when he should have paid more attention to where Jason’s hands were. “The hell Jason!”

“I needed the info. Had to figure out where they were getting the kids because you weren’t doing your job _Batman_.” Jason explains testily, pheromones still thick around him like a cloud of perfume. God, it was like he didn’t even realize—it was his worst nightmare come to life. He couldn’t believe that they were still standing, unmolested by Gotham’s alphas and betas.

Dick stifled a short moan.

Jason snorted. “I knew what I was getting into dickface, don’t give me that look. Think this is my first time at a rodeo?”

Damian’s voice broke into the conversation wondering where he was and informing him that there was a robbery in progress near one of the science labs though not in so many words.

“Got to go,” Jason said easily, one foot on the ledge. “Got a date with a big, strong alpha tonight.”  

Heat twisted ugly in his gut like he’d swallowed a cherry bomb.

“In your condition?!”

“Aw” Jason mocked. “Are you going to protect me from the bad men?”

“Jason...”

Jason threw a smoke bomb at his feet.

“ _Later_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The science behind this omega!verse is (what science?) is that omega is entirely a male thing, it's a sex-linked gene, specifically to the y-chromosome but depending on nature/nurture/hormones/puberty/body chemistry/wizards, the person with the omega gene does not necessarily develop into an omega. 
> 
> They can still pass it on. It doesn't matter if the stud is alpha or beta. 
> 
> Also, alphas and betas have a peak rut/heat period in late spring and early fall, alphas first then betas (and for now, that's the main difference between alphas and betas), where individuals hole up and have lots and lots of elicit sex. Or at least one hopes anyway. 
> 
> Omegas do not go into heat. Their heat is triggered when the alpha or beta close to them goes into a rut/heat. It can also be induced by some heavy-duty chemicals. 
> 
> (more notes to be added when it's not 4 am in the morning)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crystal asked a question that I'm sure other people have asked and it's so rare that I can string coherent, logical thoughts together I had to answer: 
> 
> Regarding the A/B/O divide of this fic, again think of Marvel Universe and the X-men.
> 
> In the Marvel Universe, mutants are granted various powers by the x-gene which
> 
> a) may or may not be inherited  
> b) may or may not activate during puberty
> 
> I'm mostly basing this on the fact that Cyclops (Scott Summers) and his siblings do have mutant ancestry in their family tree but for some reason, their father, mother, several of his ancestors do not show any mutation. 
> 
> So no, people aren't born omegas like how you can't pregnant (unless it's a fetus in fetu I guess) at the tender age of two.
> 
> Omegas do not exist because from a social, biological, moral standpoint, they're kind of a dark spot in human history. As they don’t go into heat (it has to be triggered by an alpha or beta), they are considered somewhat sub-human. The popular theory is that omegas are mostly boys who are victims or neglect or abuse. This isn't entirely true but the slums do have higher incidence of the "rare" omegas. 
> 
> For someone as compassionate as Dick Grayson, the fact that his little brother presented as an omega is like being unable to stop a murder because he was stuck at a traffic light or something or--why didn't I come sooner?!!

Jason was an omega; his little brother was an omega.

The words spun around in his head like circling sharks in a tank. The fresh burst of nor’easter did little to assuage his fears as he threw himself across rooftops, barely paying attentions to the comings and goings of Gotham down below. He was fast approaching Damian’s location and all he could think of was the fact that Jason was an omega and he was in heat. He was like a woman in a red dress, pumps and bright lipstick, provocative and fertile, saturated in pheromones as though daring Dick to have a taste.

In their line of work, they didn’t come across too many omegas; Gotham was hard on people who were omegas. As soon as one popped up, they disappeared, never to be seen again. Most were victims of violence, sold like chattel across city lines. With the contemporary view on omegas somewhere between the Dark Ages and the Dark Ages during the plague, even law-abiding officers were inclined to turn a blind eye towards reports of omega traffickers.

By the time he’d arrived at the scene, Damian was finishing up with a small-time gang who were trying to break into a research facility funded by STAR Labs.

“Tt. What took you so long?”

Dick let out a low hiss of frustration.

 

For once, Dick wished that the batsuit included a helmet which he could throw in a fit of pique. He stalked into the cave, doing his best Batman impression without trying for once. Everyone held their collective breaths.

“Did you know that Jason was an omega?” He asked no one in particular, maybe the bats who were staring at him curiously between the teeth of the model T-Rex, plump and full from their patrol of the city.

Tim’s incessant tapping across the keyboard receded to a shallow echo off the cave walls. Alfred let out a knowing “oh dear” before confiscating Damian’s ruined yellow cape in his arms. Damian balanced on one foot, the other bare, a look of consternation twisting his face.

The silence was very telling. Even Babs seemed to have excused herself from the other end of his earbud.

“Wonderful” He said out loud. “That’s just great.”

Tim swiveled around in his seat, looking pained.

“It was a little obvious Dick.”

Dick threw his arms out open wide.

“Enlighten me, please.”

“Perhaps this is a conversation for another time Master Damian.” Alfred said firmly, herding their youngest out of the cave.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “He’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”

Dick immediately felt stupid.

Red Hood was one of their more dangerous rogues, didn’t hesitate to kill and in his words—did what had to be done. But it was still Jason beneath the leather and the helmet and the anger he wore like a shroud. Not Black Mask, not Two-Face, but Jason, little wing, his once upon a little brother who now ran in the shadows.

Tim sighed and he felt a pang of guilt. Dick had been the one to ask him for assistance. Whatever the younger man had planned for the rest of the night was pushed off to the wayside as he pulled up crime reports from the previous year. Several areas popped into view, along with a smattering of red dots through the more affluent parts of Gotham. Tim leaned his chin against the steeple of his hands. “Even criminals go underground during ruts.”

Dick grunted in agreement, wincing at the memory of his first and the _chaffing_ he endured in his scaled underwear. “Red Hood never did, not in May or September or any other time of the year except for that one time...”

“I remember.” Dick interrupted brusquely, holding up a gloved hand.

Jason seemed to think that his immersion in the Lazarus Pit made him immortal. While it did make him more durable than the average human being, the batfamily and gleeful crime lords were soundly relieved of this assumption when the Red Hood stumbled in the ER with three bullets in his chest.

Tim carried on smoothly, “This normally indicates a physical defect. Maybe he never developed secondary sexual characteristics. Maybe he is sterile.”

“Bruce never stopped for ruts.”

“Bruce went on regular dates.” The young beta reminded him, jaws twitching as though he couldn’t believe anyone would continue having sex with _Damian_ as the end result.

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“No” Tim replied quietly. “But this does.”

The monitor played a clip of Jason on the streets wearing nothing but a near-transparent wifebeater and pants that accentuated his ass like a neon highlighter as he bent over a passenger window, exchanging a thick wad of cash with whoever was sitting on the other side.

Dick tried to remember how to breathe.

In the background, Tim droned "This is a popular hangout for alphas who want underage prostitutes or submissive partners."

“Where did you get this?” He hissed.

Tim had the grace to blush.

“Oracle gave it to me after I requested intel on Red Hood.” He added somewhat unhappily. “I might owe her money.”

Whatever indignation he might have summoned at the thought of Tim and Babs making _bets_ on his general obliviousness was brushed aside as Jason straightened back up, his back to the camera as he jauntily flashed a bit of skin with a flick of his thumb. The images were glossy and high definition like a spread across a skin mag. The band of gold-white around Jason’s waist seemed to come to life and disappeared just as fast, slithering away like a handful of sylph. Dick swallowed, easily imagining what came next.

Omega heats had to be induced.

Jason, who worked closely with alphas and betas, would have been particularly vulnerable. Heats and ruts were biological imperatives. Even outside the season, no one could have resisted. No one would be stupid enough to want to. Jason was big and he looked like he could carry healthy children. And tonight, Jason had smelled like an omega in heat, knotted and stuffed full as though someone had already been by and branded him in the most intimate way possible.

 _Don’t quit your day job little wing_ —he thought somewhat hysterically when Tim gave a shout of alarm.

Tim already had a needle in his arm, his thumb pushing down on the plunger. The clear liquid burned as it flushed into his system and Dick jerked backwards, trying to get away.

“What the hell was that?”

“It’s one of the antidotes we use for Ivy.” Tim explained tiredly. “Hers is more of an aphrodisiac than actual pheromones but the concept is the same. Dick... you’re bleeding.”

“Oh” He said dumbly, looking down. In his hands, he held the mangled remains of a grappling hook which he had unconsciously grabbed from Robin’s equipment. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d squeezing the gun hard enough to crush it in his grip. Dick had heard of mad-eyed alphas accomplishing feats of superhuman strength but he’d always associated it rogue metas.

“Dick, are you alright?”

“He was in heat.” He said dumbly, his head still fuzzy. “He smelled like he was in heat.”

Tim stared at him with a sympathetic expression. It irritated him though he couldn’t pinpoint why, twisting the younger man into an uncharitable caricature of himself.

“Not surprising, vendors don’t like to waste time.”

“Jason’s right.” Dick bit out. “I should have been looking into this. How do they even find them?”

“Penguin’s been working with the Penitente Cartel. They provide the drugs and guns and he gives them unlimited access to Park Row.”

“Crime Alley”

“A lot of omegas live there.”

“Jason said there were kids.”

Tim nodded.

“It’s easy to test for the omega gene. They must have gone around as aid workers or volunteers to collect samples. And when they find someone, they can make up something about disease and quarantine and take them away.”

“That’s a lot of work for a bunch of kids.”

“Believe me, the payoffs are worth it.”

“If they want kids, why did Jason...”

“Discriminating tastes?” Tim shrugged.

“He can’t keep doing this.” Dick said with a hint of desperation in his voice, eyes still locked on the image of Jason getting into the back of a car.

Tim's eyes were solemn.

“No he can’t.

 

Several nights later, he and Damian encountered the Red Hood hanging a man off a twelve-story building by his ankles. When he spotted them, he let go and Damian quickly gave a chase, boots pattering across the rough concrete as he hauled the barely conscious man to safety and followed.

Damian dove like a bird of prey and Jason whirled around, feet glancing past where their little brother’s head had been just moments before. If it had been him, or Tim, or even Bruce, Dick had no doubt that they would have been on the receiving end of gunfire. But Jason was gentle with Damian in a way he never was with the senior members of their family, as much as a murderous psychopath could be to an ex-murderous psychopath-in-training.

Their blows were all show, loud and flashy, certainly, dug deep enough that Alfred would be sighing over the spots of blood and resulting bruises, but Jason knew when to hold back against the ten-year-old, the ten-year-old who was fast tiring of the kid gloves.

It was like watching a lioness teaching her cub to hunt for the first time, all teeth and hooked claws, curbed into familial tenderness.

Damian squawked when Red Hood’s helmet was jammed over his head before tearing it off, obviously expecting it to explode. Jason laughed uproariously at Damian’s expression.

“Holy shit kid, the look on your face!”

“I will destroy you!” Damian shrieked, sounding like a wet cat.

Dick rushed in, his cape flaring behind him like a raven’s wing.

“And now for the main course.”

He kicked Jason’s hands out of the way as he brought up his guns.

Jason smelled clean, as clean as anything could be after a night in Gotham. He smelled sweat and a bit of aftershave, the foreign traces of odd alphas and betas but nothing like the night he set fire to the docks. Once again Dick was painfully reminded that if Jason hadn’t said anything, if he hadn’t smelled anything, he would have never known.

He took a blow to his shoulder and his entire arm went numb.

If Jason didn’t have the sense to stay off the streets, he would make him.

Jason blinked blearily as though trying to clear his head. When he saw the two of them, he shrugged in resignation as though he’d expected this moment for a long time. But rather than wedging in a parting shot to Dick’s somewhat bittersweet victory—he really was a horrible brother. Where could they even send Jason? Blackgate? Jason would eat them alive.—his lips split into a wicked smile and slowly, his knees fell open.

In the dim light, the inseams of his pants were thick and bold, like arrows up his inner thighs. Dick pulled up short at the display, all manners of cognizance choking to a stop behind his teeth like a twelve-car pileup.

Damian, mistaking his reaction for the presence of another threat, jumped back as though bitten, scouring their surroundings. But there was nothing there.

“Brat, Batman” Jason saluted, and he vaulted over the side of the building, disappearing from view. Hissing, Damian drew his shuriken, intent on pinning him to the wall.

“No” Dick ordered, putting a calming hand on his shoulder though he felt anything but.

Damian shrugged him off with an incredulous glare, swallowing with difficulty as Red Hood receded into the distance. “You must be joking...”

Dick shook his head.

“Let him go.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between job hunting and... selling my soul to other fandoms *shifty eyes* I had a hard time writing this. Unfortunately, it took like two months for this chapter not to look like a pile of crap and well... the jury's still out on that I guess. But I hope this was well worth waiting for :]
> 
> Enjoy

He missed Jason.

Omegas had made a mark across every culture, indelible, undeniable, some proud, others tragic like the twenty-year-old man burnt alive at the stake on the charge of witchcraft, nubile young boys used as harem slaves.

Dick hadn’t know what to feel when after this excursion into space, he’d received the news that his successor was dead and that his murderer was once again free to roam the streets of Gotham. For a gut-wrenching moment, his heart had stopped because even then, his anger against Bruce and the confusion about being replaced aside, all the goddamned rules pinning his effusive personality down, he knew Jason Todd had been something special. The Titans had loved him especially. Here was a boy born to poverty, the worst, who’d come to beat the odds in becoming a vigilante-hero.

Who didn’t love a good origins story?

But after death, Jason had become little more than a cautionary tale for the future Robins into behaving and a personal flail for the dark knight. Dick resented him for it, had grown to accept it in time only Jason was alive and it was no longer simple sorrow and grief and guilt the ex-bird represented but want and possessiveness like the younger man was a thing to be had instead of a real person and it scared Dick bad enough that he would no longer consider confronting Jason, hold back and follow and watch from a distance while Robin went after him.

Jason wouldn’t hurt a Robin, not Talia’s son. Him, he wasn’t sure about. Even he had enough brains left to know that confronting his most volatile brother at less than one-hundred ten percent was akin to suicide.

The fire painted Gotham skyline red like blood and Red Hood stood in the thick of it like a phoenix reborn, daring the bat to come after him. They knew it was different. Red Hood was waiting. He might have been bank rolled by Talia’s impressive connections but that didn’t mean that sophisticated lab equipment could be lugged around like guns and grenades. Tests took time and sometimes, Tim was just that much better.

Red Hood was waiting but not for him, he was waiting for Batman to catch up. But for what he wondered as Jason swelled at the sight of a gangbanger begging for mercy, a fistful of Benjamins like an offering to appease the wrathful god. Red Hood didn’t kill the man, Robin wouldn’t have cared but Dick did and he knew it.

It was a concession of sorts. Slowly, deliberately, he left the man at their feet like a particularly belligerent cat teaching its useless human how to hunt.

Damian asked him a question, words harsh but strangely lyrical at the same time.

Jason replied in kind “Figure it out.”

 

“This can’t go on.”

Tim didn’t slam his hand down on the table but it was a near thing. In hindsight, maybe the third Robin should have taken up the cowl, padding and all. At the very least, Dick wouldn’t have been on the wrong end of Tim’s disappointed looks. He tried to think back on what he could have said that upset the young beta enough that he’d abandoned his precious research in favor of delivering a debilitating glare.

Shamefaced, Dick replied. “I know”

“He’s dangerous.”

“He’s Jason.” He said desperately as though that explained everything.

Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. All he knew was that he wanted Jason as he never had anyone else. Maybe it was simple biology. Hell, he knew that a good chunk of it was but he couldn’t bear to turn himself away from the bright glare off Jason’s mask. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Jason spent, panting, loathing himself, hating him yet wanting a little more.

“Ruts and heats are a biological imperative. Maybe if you...” Tim hesitated, his mouth closing with a silent click.

Dick stirred.

“If I what?”

The beta’s face was perfectly serious.

“If he were to conceive, he would be out of the game for at least the next seven months and for a considerable time after.”

Dick gaped.

“Are you crazy? Are you listening to yourself? Jason’s a _person_. You can’t... you can’t just make him raise a kid he doesn’t want.”

“The Red Hood’s policy has always been to clean up the streets. He doesn’t dislike children.” Tim’s flips curled in a way to suggest that he wasn’t. It was like Tim-speak for _man up and fuck it out of your system_. “Have you thought about it?”

“No I haven’t.” Dick bit off curtly, indicating that this conversation was over.

“It might be useful.” Tim said with clinical dispassion, the barest quiver of his throat giving away his thoughts.

“No Tim, I won’t do that to him.”

“But...”

“I said no”

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, Jason, little wing, spreading his legs and asking for more. It was quickly becoming his favorite nightmare. Him and Jason in a burning warehouse, the younger man hot and tight beneath him, receptive but not yet ready, plenty willing to be persuaded otherwise.

Omega heats had to be _triggered_. The Penitente Cartel would have had hormones to induce heats in young omegas. Jason was not a child, no longer the scrawny waif Bruce picked off the streets. An omega as big as Jason would have commanded a premium price in Gotham for novelty if not anything else.

It would have hurt.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath.

Subsequent encounters did not improve the situation any. Though Jason tried to avoid the bat family as much as possible, Dick had grown into the habit of rushing in even where the angels feared to tread.

Tensions were at an all-time high between the four brothers with Tim mutely threatening to tears his hair out and quit. The only ones who seemed to get a kick out of the situation were Oracle and her Birds-of-Prey. They seemed to find it very hysterical.

But it was in tracking Jason that a pattern emerged. Instead of torching a methlab every Tuesday, the Hood circled the city as though looking for something, at times allowing Batman and Robin to get close but not too close.

It was the most elaborate game of cat and mouse since B tried playing Sandy to Selena Kyle’s Danny Zuko. Embarrassing as hell for all parties involved yet a guilty pleasure everyone wanted in on.

He knew for a fact that Steph had bet big on him. Something about him being a complete sub. He growled.

For alphas, there wasn’t anything better than total submission from the other party. It made heats trying for alpha females who often needed partners who would both submit and accommodate them through the entirety of their seclusion which made Dick Grayson a popular flavor in Gotham.

He had always been a sort of an odd duck. His blatant attraction to Jason was telling. He’d always attributed it to growing up alpha under Bruce’s tutelage but now he wondered if he hadn’t underestimated how much of a giant pervert he was.

Inside, he was cut up in turmoil. Tim’s advice was the least of it.

Jason was an omega.

Jason was also smelled like he was desperate for cock.

One night, Al even sent him away with a care package on patrol and he nearly died of mortification. He still had little D to keep an eye on and Jason was his little brother. A little brother who towered over him with a good fifty pounds on him and more but he was supposed to be the responsible one. Bruce had left him the cowl. He was supposed to have better control no matter how delectable Jason might be sprawled across a California King and a thousand thread-count Egyptian cotton.

This was starting to become ridiculous.

“Your face is ridiculous.” Someone said and it wasn’t Damian.

He whipped around, nearly colliding with a six-foot wall of solid-muscle who was clearly itching for something to defend himself with and how was it his life now that his first instinct was to hug Jason instead of hauling him off to the nearest penitentiary?

Dick tried to console himself with the knowledge that no prison had yet to be built that could keep a bat or an ex-bird down for long. And even before, when Jason reentered their lives just as spectacularly as he had first done it, he had been so glad to see the younger man, damaged but alive.

He’d wanted to, he didn’t know what he wanted but it wasn’t tying the giant idiot down so he could lick him all over. Or something. He needed to get laid. The bat gauntlet was no longer doing its job.

“Jay” He greeted evenly, patting himself on the back when his voice didn’t waver, his throat fluttering with newborn butterflies.

Jason cocked his head, expression unreadable beneath his red helmet.

“Is that a threat I hear in your dulcet tones?”

Inwardly, he cursed himself. They were masked; they weren’t supposed to use real names. The few times he had done it, he only realized after he’d gone home to roost. Dick had resolved not to paint additional targets on his brother’s back.

Way to go Grayson.

“Here”

Jason tossed him a clear vial containing some greenish liquid.

“What’s this?” He asked, not expecting a straight answer.

“One of Ivy’s specials. Go ahead. It’s not poisoned. Ask Babs even.”

“What would Oracle know?”

Jason chuckled low under his breath. It sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“Oh Dick, in this city? Everything.”

It did help. His head cleared slightly as with the antidotes Tim had been dosing him with on the regular. But while the antidote B developed cut through the fog of pleasure like one of Jason’s knives, this one had a gradual effect, peeling back the layers of attraction one by one as though letting him know the contents of the full packaging. It was maddening. It was at once, better and worse.

Red Hood was waiting, sprawled like a large, predatory cat across the ledge. At any moment, he could flee and Dick would be left with nothing but the barest impression of his scent bruising the air around him. He had to tread carefully; he had to—fuck it.

“Tell me how I can help.”


	4. Chapter 4

“See, this is why you’re no bat Dickie.” The Red Hood purred, his scent thick about him like a peppery smog. Whatever precautions he must have taken before their confrontation disappeared, the meek taint of an unreceptive beta giving way to his more potent perfume.

Anger and fear both manifested as arousal and Dick bit back a bark of laughter at the thought of big, bad Red Hood being scared of a boy with a penis joke for a name. But the Red Hood leaned in, the polymer finish of his biker helmet—and here, he spared a thought towards whether or not it was rigged with a bomb—brushing against the protective material of his cowl. The sound went directly to his dick and so did his little wing’s voice when he finally said “A bat doesn’t ask, he takes. He strips the answers from you. He doesn’t ask for help. _He doesn’t need help_.”

“I’m serious.” Dick rasped, supplicating himself before an omega.

Jason was big, his body broad and strong. He would make a good mother for his children and it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t care for them because he had money. All Jason had to do was just to lie there and take it. For an instant, Dick felt terror thrumming through his veins. “You said it yourself.” He continued, hoping to god no one else was listening to this, that no one else caught the slight jump at the end of his syllables. “I screwed up. This one is on me. Let. Me. _Help_.”

The Red Hood flinched at the tone of his voice.

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He replied stubbornly.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Jason demanded. “What am I saying? Of course you are. You’ve been whammied by so much pheromones I’m surprised you haven’t started humping walls already.”

“It’s not the pheromones.” Dick gritted out. When Red Hood shot him a dubious look he said “Look, I know how this sounds but just hear me out okay? I’m not in rut, you’re not in heat,” Except that part was a lie or he wasn’t sure or he was so sick and depraved that he might just take Tim up on his suggestion because Jason smelled good, he smelled really good. He was like a meatlover special at a vegan buffet and his mouth salivated at the thought of biting into the smooth band of flesh just above his hips where his back met the swell of his ass. Dick swallowed. “This is as good as it’s going to get.”

“Drop it Big Bird, I’m no damsel to be handled.”

“You’re not doing this alone.”

“Is it because I’m an omega?” Red Hood taunted. “Because golly gee you’ve never had time for me be _fore_.”

“Jay”

“ _Dick_ ”

How did one confront a family member turning tricks on the corner of Warren and Sixth?

Playing the honey trap was nothing new for the batfamily but someone, usually Bruce, had always been there to bail them out if they ran into trouble. Jason was running this op solo with thugs and mercenaries who wouldn’t hesitate to sell him downriver or worse if they got wind of the fact that an _omega_ was undermining their entire operation.

“Just give me a chance.”

“You’re kidding right?” Red Hood cocked his head. “And they call me the crazy one.”

Dick shook his head. “You’re not crazy.” He denied vehemently.

If the helmet was off, he could have sworn he would have seen Jason smile.

“Why are you doing this Dickie? Think you’re so special you can fuck me into seeing the light?”

“You’re my brother.”

“And pheromones are pheromones.” The other man shrugged noncommittally. “You never cared if it was a dick or a clam, or you know, remotely human, why should I?”

“My god Jason, that’s...”

Vulgar, Dick was about to say but it held a certain appeal. The alpha in him, oblivious to the sarcasm, approved at another hurdle removed.

“On the flipside, I haven’t seen this much jockeying to get in someone’s pants since you were voted Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. Man, the look on B’s face. Do you think he cried?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied sarcastically. “Loads, almost cried himself to sleep.”

“What would B say if he was here right now you think?” Jason quipped, looking genuinely curious.

“B isn’t here right now Jay, I am.”

“Yeah” Jason breathed with a slow nod. “Then you know why this is a bad idea.”

 

The next few days passed uneventfully.

Everyone was too busy avoiding the scourge that was an alpha vigilante out for blood. Even Damian fell back during their nightly patrols, wary of the aura he exuded over the rooftops. When caught, most petty criminals dropped to the ground willingly dialing the police to be picked up and processed. Some of the bigger fish took affront to his alpha-ness and came barreling from the shadows rather than run away. These, Robin dispatched with ease and hung from the street lights in a rare display of pity to warn off everyone in the area. Three nights later, his arm throbbing from where a burglar got him with a shiv, he sat Damian down on top of Denny’s and handed him a milkshake.

Damian slurped loudly. He growled then chagrined, apologized.

“So... you might be wondering why I’ve been weird this entire...”

His littlest brother scoffed scornfully. “Don’t be such a fool. Mother explained it to me when I was six.”

Sex-ed with the Al Ghuls. Dick shuddered.

“Yeah? Then you know...”

“You are an alpha.” Damien recited, eyes calculating as though trying to decide if he would spring for a second milkshake. “You are reacting to the presence of Red Hood whose proximity has triggered a pseudo-rut.”

Dick blushed all the way down his chest.

“Holy shit, wait a minute—that means, you knew he was an omega?!”

Damian tossed his empty cup aside with a flourish. Under his mask, Dick frowned. He would need to lecture his brother on littering of all things.

“Of course.” The boy replied, supremely bored. “While recovering, Red Hood began to show signs of secondary sexual characteristics. The guards, of which there were many, showed marked interest as did doctors who were monitoring his brain activity.”

“And then?!” He demanded, furious at the thought of other people putting hands all over his ~~mate~~ brother.

“There were altercations.” Damian replied.

Dick couldn’t strangle the youngest Robin so he turned his attention to the next best things. Just as well he ended up with a lapful of vanilla, he feared for the criminals in Gotham if he was blue-balled any longer. Distantly, he swore he could hear Barbara laughing into their comm lines. She seemed to do that a lot of late.

“No need” Damian said airily, eyeing him like an idiot. “Todd is hardly defenseless.”

He gritted out “Did any of them...”

“No” The boy replied, unreadable as the stone gargoyles that kept them company all through the night. Damian got up and stretched, youthful and supple as he bent himself backwards in half. He straightened with a curt flourish. “They were unworthy of him.”

 

On the last week of April, a letter came through the mail addressed to Robbie Malonie. It held a single instruction— _Iceberg Lounge @ 4, wear sth nice -Red_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High time we get things rolling don't you think ;o


	5. Chapter 5

The medium for the message spoke just as loudly as the message itself.

Sometimes even more as he’d discovered throughout his vigilante career.

Dick set the card aside on the breakfast table, wiping his mouth on a napkin. The paper was thin, not the typical cardstock or even an eight-by-eleven fresh off a printer but a note with a ragged edge, torn off at the last minute from a hotel stationary. There was a faint logo scratched onto the middle; Dick took a mental note to look for it in the cave database.

The envelope itself was crumpled, hastily stuffed and licked shut with glue. As he resisted the initial urge to sniff, to test if it _smelled_ like Jason, he noticed faint smudges marring the flap. Fingerprints through from whom he couldn’t begin to guess. Jason was the likeliest culprit but Jason was no amateur to leave traces of himself in places easily seen.

From across the table, Tim had finally taken notice and asked if something was wrong.

Gratitude was his initial thought—that he might not have to do this alone. Tangling with the Penguin and a prominent crime family to rescue a gaggle of omegas would be no walk in the park. But he froze because he remembered what the young man had said, about Jason. If he had thought about knotting him, stuffing him full and retiring him to pasture as surely as he could with a bullet to the brain and something seized hard inside him like the time Tarantula had pinned him to the rooftops wanting just a little touch and Alfred refilled his cup, the benign scent of the aging butler breaking from his reverie.

He couldn’t accept Tim’s help. Not if he wanted his little brother, _both of them_ , to come out alive. And more than anything, at least, it was what Dick told himself. Jason wouldn’t appreciate Tim poking his nose into whatever little soiree that was to take place at the Iceberg Lounge.

 

“Exhibit A” Barbara said succinctly, freezing the frame just as Jason was about to step inside the car. “Red Hood makes contact with a Christian Vargas, a known pimp and human trafficker.”

Dick couldn’t help but growl, a low rumble coiling from his chest until Stephanie scooted inches away, disturbed by his uncharacteristic display of alphaness.

Helena was only eager to receive her, curling an easy arm around her waist. A glare from Barbara told him to knock it off and he subsided, chastened and hyperaware that he was encroaching upon another alpha’s space. Invited or not, thoughts of Jason made it difficult to relax in the redhead’s presence.

That had never happened before. The Oracle and her Birds of Prey seemed to realize this.

Barbara pointed to the second screen.

“Exhibit B. Warehouses near the docks, all owned by shell corporations in Penitente Cartel’s name, destroyed. Obviously, he doesn’t find what he’s looking for which brings us to Exhibit C which my informants tell me is supposed to be a private party.”

Dick fidgeted, just a little at the pointed remark, his hair swept back in a greasy side part. It was a testimony to the other alpha’s omniscience that she’d already picked out a suit, tie and matching shoes for him just as he burst in waving Jason’s letter like a white flag.

“You’re going in blind Dick.” Babs concluded, seeing none too pleased by the situation. “Whatever Jason’s planning is going to be big and we only have his word for it that you’re invited at all.”

“He won’t...” Dick protested feebly.

“You’re useless like this.” She told him crushingly. He could hear Helena snort. “It’s not your responsibility if he wants to brush up on honeytrap 101. And if you’re here to argue that Jason is a delicate flower in need of protection, I’ll ground you myself. You should have fucked it out of your system while you could.”

“Babs!”

“Sex would be fantastic though, can you imagine?” Helena offered, lounging on the king-sized bed.

A twist of the lips softened the alpha’s face.

“Only during heats when I don’t care about the extra lip-service.”

“But he’s an omega...”

“That’s no excuse.”

It wasn’t but that didn’t mean Dick couldn’t stop feeling guilty about it. Something about being a Wayne sought comfort in the heavy burden of duty.

“Dick, Jason is not your responsibility.”

“He asked for my help.”

Barbara Gordon sighed.

“And so here we are.”

She handed him his cover. Barbara would have never risked the lives of her family even if she was less than happy with them at the moment.

Dick skimmed through quickly—Robbie Malone, spent the last nineteen months overseeing a business transaction in Glasgow before going into hiding in Amsterdam, sought refuge in Zurich before a hop, skip and a jump back to Gotham where he aspired take over the family business. He wrinkled at the sordid subtext. “Could you make me less likeable?”

“You’re a criminal Big Bird” Stephanie said cheerily, curling her long blonde hair between her fingers. “You don’t get to choose your approval rating.”

“But he gets Jason.” Helena pointed out in the interests of fairness.

Dick deflated at the thought.

Her eyes missing nothing, Babs commented “I see he isn’t the only one.”

 

Setting foot inside the Iceberg Lounge was like stepping inside an upside down crystal bowl. Everything glittered with a frosted edge. The ice motif was overdone to the point that Dick began to fear he might never find anything in the endless maze of glass walls and warped shapes, at least until he sensed a familiar smell, sweet pepper and honey that made his mouth water and turned his head so fast it nearly popped off his shoulders.

Stephanie, who had infiltrated as a server, hissed something into her starched collar. Static burst in his right ear as she hissed “Focus N.”

During patrols the Red Hood was covered in gunpowder and blood, dispensing anger and violence as swiftly as he dealt justice to the streets below. But Dick could smell him now as clear as day, rubbing up against foreign alphas, foreign betas and foreign _omegas_ as though he had forgotten who Dick was, who Dick could be if he would just spread his legs and let him.

Horrified, he instantly took a step back, knocking over a server who spilled champagne down a woman’s gown. The alpha snarled, her teeth showing and sharpened to points. Her dark brown eyes clouded with rage. Stephanie groaned.

But before she could clock him and the server both, strong arms wound around her waist, blotting out her breasts with a handful of napkins. The woman gasped at the touch. “Now, now” Jason cooed. Someone had put make up on him and had done it very well. His lips were bitten, green eyes lined with kohl and silvery glitter that made him look altogether too desirable. “There’s no need for that. I’m sure it was an accident.”

The woman was a puddle against Jason’s chest. She simpered at him uselessly as he turned her around, spinning her hand in his hardened palms like he was asking her for a dance. If she had thought something amiss about a whore, an omega aggressive enough to chase an alpha, it didn’t matter. She was under Jason’s thrall now.

“Here’s a drink.” Jason winked saucily, pressing a glass against her nerveless fingers. “’s on me.”

He sent her away in a swoon. As soon as she was gone, Dick pulled him into a secluded corner away from prying eyes. It was a mistake and not his first. He should have never come here. Not where Jason was free to be what he was, not his brother, not a Robin, not a villain but an object of desire.

Robbie Malone, to his father’s eternal lament, was a beta. He wouldn’t have had this strong a reaction, not in public. Not in front of a slew of alphas who were far more obvious in their intent. A throng of omegas couldn’t have stopped them from sniffing Jason out. Jason who was so beautiful and so confident in his actions. Different from other omegas. His poise born from something other than years of whoring and worship. 

“Hello to see you too Robbie-baby.”

“Shut. Up.”

It made Dick grit his teeth to hear endearment for another man—even if it was for his alter ego—fall from Jason’s painted lips. He realized that when their job was finished, he would happily burn Robbie Malone’s file and dance on its ashes. Shame, he had been rather proud of his creation.

All around them, various alphas and betas were taking turns with their omega companions to whet their appetites. Dick grabbed them a table and pushed Jason into a seat, trying to hide him from view. He had no idea what Jason was wearing but it showed too much skin.

“Well aren’t we eager?” Jason snipped when his knees were parted, stretching out the cut of his leather pants that showed tantalizing bits of flesh. Legs splayed, he looked to the world like an omega in for a reaming. With herculean effort, Dick pushed them shut only to have his little brother straddle his lap. “You brought Steph.” Jason observed, nipping his ear. “I’m hurt.”

Jason was heavy but a good kind of heavy. It was a nice solid weight that made him think of all the things Dick could do to him.

“I wasn’t about to come here without backup.”

Which reminded him, where was Batgirl?

“You should have brought the replacement instead.” Jason replied, adding a silent _duh_ at the end.

Instantly, a low growl boiled from his throat.

“Why?”

Jason let out a small noise when he gripped his waist, his nails digging small crescents down his hips.

“Because he’s a cold fish.” Jason chuckled. “Less competition that way.”

Bewildered, Dick asked “what competition?”

The younger man gave him a pitying look. “You really don’t know...”

“Jason” he interrupted. “What am I doing here?”

At once, the omega’s expression grew serious. “Look around Dickie” He whispered, his tongue cradling the shell of his ear. Dick shuddered, his hips rising with an inadvertent thrust. Jason grunted, pinning him against the loveseat.

Mouth dry Dick rasped, “Where are all the omegas?”

Honestly, he hadn’t noticed. If it wasn’t for Steph’s careful coaching and the offhand observation that there weren’t as many omegas as she thought there might be, he would have never given it a second thought. He half-hysterically wondered what he was doing here in the first place. Babs had been right. Dick was useless like this. A fight breaks out and he would be as useful as putting a tracker on a Robin—they never worked.

A man squealed playfully, thin, lithe, his hair down the side of his face in a blond wave. He was the exact opposite of what Jason was and yet like Jason, he was older, a worn edge to him like he had had a hard turn and knew it. All the omegas were older though not that _old_ —the median age of the omega population curdled his stomach to think about. But it was clear that none of the children Jason had desperately sought, the virgins, were there at the moment. There were even women thrown in the mix.

“Not here” Jason sighed swiveling his hips and tossing his head back. “Not yet.”

Dick picked up discontented grumblings as some alphas complained about a _beta_ hogging all of Jason’s attentions. Despite his disreputability as a pro, it seemed that Jason had quite the following. “There’s going to be a sale tonight” Jason said in a low voice, “to auction off the omegas.”

“What about you?” Dick asked in a hushed voice, tongue dragging across his cracked lips.

Jason beamed, packing as much teeth as he could into his smile.

“They don’t sell old whores like me.” And the younger man had to kiss him to stifle his protest. Dick’s head swam at the touch, flesh tingling like he had the worst case of hives, needing to touch Jason again as though it might bring relief. But they were already touching and Dick was half-hard, his interest noticeable between them in his tented crotch.  

“ _N_ ” Oracle coached patiently, a welcome-unwelcome intrusion into his thoughts. “ _Ask him where the kids are_.”

“According to a friend of mine” And it was a good thing Jason had taken the comm. piece and fitted it over his ear because hot flood of anger was drowning out everything else in Dick’s eyes. “They’re planning to ship them over just before midnight.”

“We’re going to have to hit them hard and fast.” Stephanie butted in and Dick had to curb the urge to lash out at her. She smiled apologetically, pointing towards the gaggle of onlookers and mentioning that omegas were meant to be shared.

“ ** _No_** ”

Jason laughed at the jump in his pulse. “Oh Dickie bird, the fun’s just begun.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dick survived by the strength of sheer will and the pressure of Jason’s heel on his cock.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. It was spring—too early for ruts, from either alphas or betas. But the omegas had been primed for the event. Jason’s collar was open, a light sheen glossing his skin like a smear of oil. His head spun from the heat scent, eyes bejeweled by the glitter of the crystalline room.

Jason told him to bid on an omega, figure out how far the rabbit hole went. So he did. The first kid, a baby really, pushed up on stage, his hand shot up so fast he nearly gouged out the eyes of a neighboring alpha. He was distracted. Jason was off entertaining a pair of betas, his thighs flexing obscenely in constricting pants. How had he even gotten into them? He had to have had help. One of the other alphas or betas putting their greasy mitts all over his little brother, sullying his spicy scent with their own.

His lap felt empty, the short distance between them a gaping wound ready to be stitched up. The auctioneer waved his hammer once more and his arm moved jerkily, holding up a number. He was now sweating bullets down his back. The alpha next to him was starting to inch away, discomfited by the intermittent rumbles caught in his lungs. It didn’t matter. Everyone else had their attention firmly fixed on stage. Some were not so subtly rubbing one out inside their pants. Women clearly had the foresight to wear looser skirts.

“Going once...

“Going twice...”

Oracle said something on the comms. And Batgirl replied “I’m gone, I’m gone.” Pulling herself away from an omega rubbing his head against her knees. The kids on sale were young, silent in a terrified way that came with growing up in Gotham’s underbelly. They weren’t omegas, not yet. But they did have the markers for it. Potential. There would be steps to make sure that they became omegas instead of a budding alpha or a beta. If he knew anything about the skin trade, he knew they would. Dick didn’t even know how much he spent on the kid because he couldn’t see Jason and while it was repulsive to see _children_ paraded on stage like meat, anointed with a faux-heat scent like it was holy oil, they were safe as long as they were children. As long as they stood on stage, remained products to be sold, they were safe.

But Jason, Jason could be in trouble. Jason was an omega. In heat. Irresistible. The auctioneer invited him to come up and look at his purchase. The kid was as tiny as Damian and looked up at him with limpid brown eyes. Dick’s heart lurched when he realized when he couldn’t just hug the kid and whisk him away into the night.

The oxygenated high of standing up got the blood flowing long enough for him to pretend to know what the hell he was doing, tipping the boy’s head back to count all the missing teeth. Dick was scrambling his brains, trying to figure out how to ask him—hey where are all the others? When suddenly, the lights went out, plunging the room into an eerie, reflective darkness.

The patrons stuck to their seats, expecting another sleazy, over-the-top attempt at an atmosphere. The boy was ripped from his arms and Dick lunged forward, growling deep inside his chest. Someone held up their phone at the sound, the picturesque background of a family portrait highlighting the stage and the missing kid. Then the bone-breaking started, it was Batgirl.

Dick withdrew into darkness, unraveling his shirt and dress pants. He put his domino on and took a hit of Timmy’s wonder cure which wasn’t as wonderful as it was supposed to be because it was his dick caught in the cup and he vented his frustration on a man who accidentally bumped into him.

Only a dozen boys were recovered, enough to whet the appetites of the invitees and drive up the prices. The Penitente Cartel, tipped off or maybe grown wiser to bat-tactics, had stashed the children elsewhere. The beta beneath him whimpered. Nightwing quickly knocked him out.

 

“O tells me you’re off the grid.”

Jason, he noted sourly, had a Pavlovian effect on bits of anatomy he really had no right to. The simple mention of Babs gave him an instant boner and he didn’t even know where to begin with that. So he used the tried and true bat-method of ignoring it until it resolved itself. Someday. Any day. Maybe.

He grunted in response.

They were both in their civvies. Dick because it was daylight. He hadn’t slept in forty-six hours and he didn’t want to go back to the mansion and its two betas and a child raising judgmental eyebrows.

Jason he supposed, had just rolled out of bed. There was dark stubble lining his chin, back sloped with languid grace. Letting out a yawn, he scratched his neck, just above the collarbone, allowing him a glimpse of his belly that had Dick looking away just as quick, willing the bulge in his pants to _down, down, DOWN!_

“Found anything?”

The winds turned, brushing his lips with a hint of honey that made his tongue stick out. Thankfully ~~tragically~~ , Jason did not approach. He rocked back on his heels, a hint of fever cresting his ears. Jason was still in heat. A kind of low simmer that would have knocked Dick flat on his ass if he hadn’t already been sitting down. Frantically he thought, what the fuck did Jason think he was doing? What was he doing out here? Oracle, Babs, dammit, and he felt his hackles rise, teeth gashing as he spat “How?”

Jason looked taken aback.

“Does it matter?”

Dick closed his eyes. It did. He didn’t know why—he knew exactly why—but it did. It meant that at any time, Jason could have been with someone else. He could have been with a beta... or another alpha.

“Did you fuck him?” Too late, he realized that it was a mistake.

Jason took half a step back before standing his ground, furious.

“What the fuck.”

Dick turned around. The stuff Tim gave him was great. It cleared his head enough to think mean things, really nasty things. Things that Jason didn’t deserve, not from him. But it didn’t ease the need, it didn’t get rid of the memory of Jason’s scent ingrained so deep inside him that he might as well pine like a tree.

Jason swelled with righteous indignation. Taller than him now, heavier—solid. More cushion for the pushing, his lizard brain whispered and in all honesty, Dick was delighted by the idea. He wouldn’t have to hold back, keep the bruises off his worn hide. Dick wanted him to feel it when he drove into him. He would make him feel it, chase away thoughts of other alphas from his mind.

Having heard the possessive rumbles in his chest, Jason shoved him back.

Dick wobbled.

“Shit, Jay... I didn’t mean.”

“Yeah you did.” Jason spat, pivoting on one heel. “Fucking alphas, you really think that little of me?”

There was noise coming out of his mouth. Meaningless platitudes that bounced off Jason like water off a duck’s back. He didn’t like it. Jason should not be turning away from him. Dick should—he didn’t know what. Tie him up maybe. Lock him in his bedroom, keep him on his knees, make him beg for a good fucking.

Jesus _fucking_ Christ. Dick ground a heel in his eye and thought of Alfred. And Tim. And Bruce. He shook. “I saw you on the tapes.” He explained hoarsely, trying to think of as many non-sexy things as possible. Kori’s cooking. His laundry. Alfred’s eyebrows.

Jason sneered.

“So what, you thought you’d play knight in shining armor to my Pretty Woman?”

“Jay.” Dick wheedled, knees weak.

He just wanted to roll over and let the omega walk all over him in stiletto heels.

Face twisting, Jason tore himself from Dick’s reach. “I’m no damsel boy wonder. If you and me are going to work, you’d better keep that in mind.”

“Not a damsel.” Dick agreed fervently. “Got it.”

Jason snorted. Crudely he asked, “Did you try jerking off?”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

He had actually. Now he chafed.

“Well how the fuck would I know?”

Dick bit his tongue. “Christ, I’m sorry alright? It’s not easy standing next to someone in heat.”

“You’ve never had this problem when you were patrolling.” His little brother pointed out reasonably. “What’s the difference?”

The difference was that Jason was a gorgeous, six-foot tall omega on the cusp of heat. It was like standing between the tide and the shoreline and expecting not to get wet. But he wasn’t about to voice his thoughts aloud.

“I’m not an alpha, _Dick_.” Jason said, crossing his arms. “That doesn’t mean I deserve this from you.”

Dick’s fingers twitched. He deserved everything.

“I just want...”

“You’re useless like this.” Jason said kindly. “Go _home_.”

“Will you be there?”

Instantly, he wished that the ground would swallow him up. Where was Hogwarts when you needed it? He would have made an awesome Hufflepuff, he knew he would have.

Jason coughed out an amused laughter and Dick dropped his shoulders in relief.

“I didn’t mean...” he said hastily.

“Of course you didn’t.” Jason hummed and inexplicably, came back.

Dick held his breath and clenched his fists, keeping them at his side where he could keep an eye on them.

“Relax Dickie.” Jason said, eyes drooping half-mast. His fingers, wiry and long, scarred and discolored from nicotine on ends, hooked around his belt loop. “This won’t hurt.”

“Jason!” He manfully shrieked when his brother jerked his belt off with ease.

The younger man reconsidered.

“Maybe just a little bit.”

“Holy shit.”

The belt dropped to the ground. “Just lie back and think Superman.”

“Superman never...” Dick grumbled, throat bobbing as his pants were pulled down. He broke off with a groan as Jason hummed in approval, giving him an experimental pump before sinking to his knees.

Dick’s hand scrabbled for purchase, fingers coiling around the patch of snowy white just above his brother’s left eyebrow. Words came out in a rush _ohmygod_ as Jason took the tip in his mouth and sucked, the relief he felt almost nauseating in its respite.

Jason licked a stripe up his length, nuzzling his balls like he would a pet. “Call me Jay handsome.” He purred and took him down in one swallow.

Dick was completely, irrevocably, _fucked_.

His brother peered up at him under the fluttering silk of his eyelashes. Dick decided right there and then that he hated Jason’s heat scent, the pepper and smoke, danger and madness all wrapped up in a bow, musky and rich like the blood thrumming through their skin, hunger and desire as though bedding half of Gotham hadn’t been enough to slake his need and it was driving him utterly bonkers to have him between his knees, head bobbing up and down like the beat of his pulse.

“Shit, shit, Tim was right.” He gasped and molars grazed his cock in warning. “Jay, Jason... slow _down_.” But Jason was not the type to indulge, not even a little. He muffled a grunt of surprise as Dick came in his mouth and pulled away, chin slick with jizz that he wiped off on his fist.

Dick’s knot flopped uselessly in the air, bulging and grotesque in the sunlight.

“Happy?”

“But you haven’t...”

Jason’s entire body language radiated hostility and tension. What he needed was to be bent over and fucked until he was walking sideways.

“As pretty as your dick is _Dick_ , I really need your other brain for this.”

“We’ve got time.” Dick said gruffly, sitting down next to him. “Let me.”

Jason ground his teeth when his hand snuck down his crotch. He held back the whimper, each bouncing against his wrist as his hips snapped reflexively against the steady pressure. His fingers were getting drenched, squeezed tight when he curled them, just a little, and pushed in.

The heady scent cleared as Jason came with a muted snarl. He sagged, head weighing heavy on his shoulder like an anvil.

“Jason?” He asked, rubbing circles behind his neck. “You alright?”

“Feels nice.” Jason mumbled, eyes opening intermittently as though he wasn’t sure whether to keep them shut or not. “They don’t usually.”

They meaning the pimps and gangbangers Jason frequented for information. And what else? Was there a possibility there was something more? Jason sighed and tilted his head back when his fingers slipped deeper into the tight clutch, knees spreading open, loose and inviting in the post-coital haze. His scent was no longer so incendiary, washed of its exigency like a hot spell after the rain. He smelled better. More like himself. More like the Jason he knew.

Jason sighed and didn’t seem to mind when Dick held him there and cleaned him with a rolled up sleeve. As though waking from a long sleep, he untangled himself from Dick’s embrace, wincing at the stickiness in his pants.

His gaze sharpened though that could have been the sunlight, hitting his eyes and making them glow amber green.

“Midtown, 1 am.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys. Too caught up in Marvel. 
> 
> But hey, look! You get oral!


	7. Chapter 7

Crime didn’t sleep in Gotham. In his case, the Bat had persistent suitors and he couldn’t always get out of the line of fire. Batman was forever. Dick Grayson on the other hand was not. It was with great reluctance Dick manned the screens, Red Robin and Batgirl heading to the rendezvous point where violence and decadence beckoned at the heroes.

Dick sipped his protein shake.

Visual was limited. His respect for O, already sky-high, got kicked up a notch.

“What’s going on?”

“One of the kidnappers pulled a knife on a kid.” Red Robin responds a moment later, cool and unflappable, very aware what an alpha was capable of. Calculating what an omega might be. Rut was coming. It always arrived with a bite of anticipation like testing out a new toy or getting his hands on a willing partner. But never had he strained for it, wanted it, needed it like a drug in his bloodstream, an imperative to his existence.

He’d always prided himself on his control. It was one of his many charms. He was dedicated, he was patient and he was loyal.

“And...?”

His body thrummed with adrenaline, already knowing how the story would end even as Tim said it. Tim was the detective of the family. He could connect the slightest bit of evidence to the perp so fast it made their heads spin. Jason had been trained by the best, highly intelligent, one of the best tacticians he had ever known. He knew the lay of the land. Knew exactly how many bullets it took to get to the center of a mob family, what to do once a monster was caught and snared in his trap. But there was a frighteningly vulnerable streak to the second Robin. And when Jason felt threatened, things went south very fast.

“Get out of there.” O ordered. She had her own flock of birds to watch tonight but she’d been monitoring the feeds. “Grab the children and...”

“The kids won’t let us.” Batgirl broke in, breathless. “They’re scared and Hood is starting to smell really, really good.”

Dick growled.

“N,” O said warningly. But she didn’t know what it felt like having your mate on the field not knowing if he was really his.

“Tranq him.”

“We can’t.” Said Tim in his awful, reasonable tone of voice. “We don’t have enough.”

Dick wanted to laugh. This was not happening.

“The police are here.” Batgirl reported. “And here we go, Hood is gone.”

Dick fell back in the chair in relief.

“How are the kids?”

“Shaken. One’s been stabbed but he’ll live.”

“Right.” Dick grabbed his headphones. “I’m signing off. See you guys later.”

“Wait N—“

 

“You gave me a handjob, why?”

“Shit Goldie!” Jason snarled, pulling his zipper up so fast he nearly castrated himself.

An alpha, sitting on the toilet hurriedly got up with his jeans puddled around his knees, anger fading white when he saw the look in Dick’s eyes. The man gulped and shuffled away, pushing aside Jason whose cheeks were flushed and glowing like neon highlights in the dim-lit bathroom.

Music swelled briefly when the door opened then shut. Jason thunked his head against the graffitied wall. “Worst timing ever.”

“Why?”

Jason kicked the toilet. He sneered, “It’s an omega thing.”

Dick blocked him from leaving.

“Try again.”

“I want you to fuck my boy-cunt and get me fat with pups.” Jason said sweetly, stretching to his full height. Dick was taken aback. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Dick replied, his guts twisting in jealousy. He bit the inside of his mouth and tasted blood stain his teeth. What would Jason even look like with a kid? Blue eyes, dark hair, curls—it wouldn’t matter if his kid was alpha, beta or omega. Jason would make an excellent mother, fierce, resourceful and intelligent. Big, healthy and fertile. He’d never allow his kid to slip through the cracks or be left behind. Best mom of the year.

“You’d be a shit parent.” Jason said callously. “Look at Bruce. Look at Roy.”

“That’s low-blow little wing.”

“But true.” Jason shrugged, pushing his hips forward. “What you want Dick, it’s not for sale.”

Dick barked out a laugh. This was not how he had intended the meeting to go. He had fully expected Jason would stay put in his dumpy apartment licking wounds and planning his next move. Bombs were par for course. This was not.

“But you would let...”

“I take precautions.” Fire sparked in Jason’s grey eyes, soldering it green. “I know I can beat them with a pinky but you?” The younger man leaned close, enough he could feel the outline of a gun tucked in his pocket. “You might just win.”

“Tell me to back off and I will.” Dick compromised. “Just don’t...”

The door opened again but when the man—beta, not a threat, shit, no threat, no threat, _notaproblematall_ —saw the two of them pressed against the cracked mirror, he turned about face and went away.

Jason continued.

“My life, my choice.”

“You’re in heat!”

His little brother walked away cackling.

“Cheer up Dickie, I’ve never been more alive.”

 

“This is a gonadotropin releasing hormone superagonist.” Tim said, shaking a vial of clear liquid. “It’s used to chemically castrate sex offenders.”

“That’s nice T—what the fuck?!”

“You weren’t,” Tim emphasizes dourly. “Paying attention.”

Chastened, Dick ducked his head and tried to look more attentive.

“Uh, what were we talking about?”

Tim sighed and reported that the child-omegas were gone. The Penitente Cartel had grown wise to their ways and moved them out of Gotham, and their jurisdiction.

“It doesn’t tell us what the Red Hood will do of course but for now, our work is done.”

Their work was never finished. This just meant that they had one less thing to look out for. But Tim had lost him at Red Hood.

“What do you think Jason will do?”

His little brother had a disgruntled look on his face.

“Tell me,” Tim said. “Is this because he’s an omega or because you’re an alpha.”

Dick was struck by the unfair accusation. A low rumble ruptured from his chest, barely audible though it was enough for Tim who held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. He stopped immediately though he clenched his fists tight, nails tearing up the meat of his palms.

“He’s our brother.”

“I’m your brother too.” Tim pointed out.

“And if it was you doing stupid things, I’d try to stop you too!”

“I know you would.” Tim replied. “But you’d be smart about it.”

Dick fumed for a moment before the feeling passed.

“You know, the Nazis studied omegas extensively during the Second World War.” The younger man hurriedly went on, “most of the science comes from there. The omegas who paired up with alphas or omegas synched their heats with ruts. But they couldn’t be placed with just anyone. They had to be compatible.”

“How?”

Tim’s expression told him that he was enjoying this about as much as he did.

“The prospective stud had to be able to physically suppress the omega.”

Dick breathed out.

“I guess that takes me out of the running.”

Tim gave him a look, not unlike when he suggested he think on the possibilities of Jason being an omega. He knew that he was hiding something but Dick wasn’t about to share. It was either that or be one Robin less before the night was out. Damian would be pleased. And he had a feeling, he stood to lose a brother anyway.

 

“Here.”

Jason stared at the cardboard box Dick shoved into his arms. He squinted at the packaging, the pale sunlight and at Dick before scratching at his five o’ clock shadow. “How’d you find me?” He slurred, even as he took out a pocket knife and cut the tape open. Dick looked away when he pulled the flaps back, throat bobbing as he rocked back on his heels.

After taking a peek inside, Jason pulled Dick inside by the collar and slammed the door shut.

“It’s not Christmas.”

It was almost summer.

Dick straightened his shirt and nodded, keeping his mouth shut for once.

Jason poked him. “It’s not my birthday either.”

“I know.” Dick finally bit out. “Just take it alright?”

“So what is all this?”

In the box were dildos, every kind he could get his hand on from dishwasher-friendly glass to rubbery silicon, metal and neon plastic. He got a lot of help from Steph when he went to her for advice. Thankfully, she only laughed for about ten minutes straight. She’d cooed at his thoughtfulness and shared some of her favorite shops online.

Jason picked up the sparkly blue dildo with a knot on one end. The plastic looked obscene against his nail-bitten palms and Dick resisted the urge to swap it out with something _else_. Also, he was growling again. If Jason’s eyebrows jumped any higher, they’d end up in his hairline.

“These evidence?”

Dick threw his hands up.

“They’re for you!”

Jason quickly put the dildo down.

“Thanks.” He said, cupping himself. “But I’ve got that covered.”

“For your heats.” Dick reiterated.

The younger man blinked.

“And you thought you’d buy me a boxful of dildos?”

He refused to be shamed. Crossing his arms, he said, “Better safe than sorry.”

Jason snorted.

“This is getting out of hand. I’m an adult.”

“You’re still not old enough to drink.”

God help them when Jason was.

“I’m old enough to know what I want.”

“Right. That’s why you go bar crawling every night.”

“It works doesn’t it?” Jason sneered, pushing him back. He tweaked his collar, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of his throat. “Take a good whiff dickhead because that’s all you’re going to get.”

Dick growled at the nickname, livid when he smelled another alpha peppering Jason’s skin.

“...I’ll kill him.” He said through the haze of white static in his head.

“As fun as that might be, the replacement won’t like it.”

“And why do you care what Timmy likes?” Eyes narrowing, he demanded. “You talk to each other?”

“I’m offended.” Jason offered glibly when Dick pinned him against the couch. They landed on the box. Something coughed with a mechanical whine. Jason twisted in his seat, a soft pant creasing his throat as he shoved a hand between his legs. It was a dildo, the vibrating one. And Dick had never hated anything more at that moment. “Yeah he talked to me.” Jason was saying and his eyes snapped to the chapped lips, grey eyes and faded freckles on his cheeks. “We worked on a case together or did you forget.”

Dick leaned forward.

“This is so weird.” Jason said conversationally and flipped them around.

He snapped at him, actually closed his teeth around air, but only a minute. The cushions were still warm from Jason’s body heat. Jason was warm. It was good that he was warm. He felt good.

Dick closed his knees, trapping Jason between them.

Jason rolled his eyes, dilated and green, very aware of what he was doing. But the younger man didn’t push him away. Not this time. He kneaded his thighs, wiping his palm against the denim.

“I’m going to regret this.”


End file.
